Draco Malfoy and The Story Untold
by REGULarlySirius
Summary: Ever wondered about Draco's perspective throughout his years at Hogwarts? How he felt, who he loved, what he truly went through?


He sat at the edge of his bed, undeniably torn between wearing the black velvet boots over his, rather more, in his opinion, appealing leather ones. "They're all the same, darling, don't worry yourself." His mother spoke sweetly against the lining of his doorway as she entered in. "Are you nervous? Oh, don't be like your father, smirking like that. It's okay to be nervous. You know, I was." She looked down at her fingers, long and elegant in nature, and walked forward, placing them gently on her son's knees, as she knelt lightly before him. "You know your father was, although we both know he'd never admit it." She smiled up at him, taking one hand kindly against his cheek, "We've no time for worries. We know who you are. You, sweetheart, know who you are. You'll be in Slytherin, your name in itself decided that. Now," she spoke, lightly patting his thighs, "we'll miss your train, and more importantly, experience the wrath of your father if we don't get a move on." Her blue eyes gazed deeply into the misty grey's of her son's, causing him to raise from his seat, nervously wiping the non-existent dust off his robes. "Good, good. Off we go" she warmly spoke, urging him forward with her right hand against his back." They moved towards the doorway, he first, she not too far behind, crossing the threshold towards his father who awaited them at the front of the house.

The ghostly shadow of their apparition lay on the pavement as he, alongside his mother and father, stepped forward towards the train. His luggage floated shortly above the ground before it, at the movement of his mothers wand, smashed against the pavement beside them. His platinum blonde hair, slicked firmly back, resembled that of his father's, and his face, long with his mother's dainty nose, accompanied by his fathers strong jaw, sat in its usual smirk, something done not out of spite, but as a way to cover some type of insecurity, some type of nervousness. He was handsome, like his father, but he carried along with him pieces of his mother, pieces that created a "nice, clean mix", as his father would say. "You look fine, son. Best get on the train. Sit next to Crabbe's son. Decent boy, he is. But quite undeniably dim." He looked up at his father, a hard man, distinctly opposite of his mother, and murmured a quick "yes, alright", before reaching for his bags. "No, Draco. We'll handle it, your mother and I. Now, get on the train. It's not appropriate to be running to the train last minute like some mudblood buffoon." "Oh, Lucius" his mother piped, reaching down for a quick hug with her son, "let him be. I love you, darling. Don't forget to owl." He smiled up at his mother and nodded his head professionally towards his father before turning around to walk towards the train. Stepping up its short steps he rounded the corner and found a quiet cart close by, deciding to sit near the window. He looked out, waving a quick last goodbye to his parents, and then turned his head towards his lap. He wore a deep black robe, coloured by the Hogwarts crest, something all first years would wear before their housing ceremony. His clothes, just bought, showed quite clearly his wealth and status, something his father had informed him was "all that mattered" in the real world. Hogwarts, being as much of the real world an 11 year old could really experience, would be the place where he'd prove his worth. Well, he thought to himself, his family's worth. "You are a Malfoy- a pureblooded, cleanly dressed, Slytherin, born and bread", his fathers words echoed in his head. As he sat with his fingers intertwined in his lap, his thoughts running rampant, the train's engine began to smoke, sparking its wheels towards the place he'd soon call home.

He sat next to, as his father had suggested, Vincent Crabbe, along with his friend Gregory Goyle. When they first stepped into his cart Draco couldn't help thinking to himself how terrible they were to look at, both being unnaturally big in frame and height. They had similarly displeasing noses, both piggish in nature, too large for their oddly small faces. He stood to greet them, letting out a very light "Draco Malfoy", trying his best to hold in a laugh that urged so desperately to be let out. He offered his right hand out for a handshake, using his left, in a type of fist, to cover his mouth. "You alright, mate?" Crabbe asked as he shook Draco's hand. "Nice to finally meet you. My father talks lots of yours. Can't believe we've never met." His voice was oddly high for his stature. Draco nodded towards Crabbe, "Perfectly fine. Just a cough." He voiced, completely disregarding the rest of Crabbe's statement, as he knew the reason they had never met was because his father thought him "thoroughly unbalanced". Draco could now, while looking upon him, understand why. "and this is?" Draco asked Crabbe, gesturing towards the other boy in the room.  
"Oh, Gregory Goyle. You've probably heard of him. Our parents are close, you see."  
"Ah, yeah." stated Draco, "of course. My father's mentioned yours once or twice."  
Goyle, saying nothing, simply stood with a shy half-smile resting awkwardly on his face. It was, in more ways than one, already a horrible ride. They were the furtherest thing from interesting and even looking at them felt terribly uncomfortable. Draco tried to avoid eye contact, resting his eyes on the flowery wallpaper that seemed to change from lilies to roses, from rose's to tulips. "You know" he chimed in, completely separate to where the conversation was, "I heard Harry Potter is on this train." Crabbe and Goyle, both adept in their knowledge of the great boy wonder, Harry Potter, shot their heads up in a swift synchronized motion. "What?" they both spoke, excitement unnervingly evident in their voices. "I think I'll go find him." And with that Draco stood up and walked confidently towards the door. Before sliding it open he turned his head over his shoulder and said slyly with a smirk, "follow if you'd like." He turned his head to open the door and the two boys stumbled up, clutching each other closely behind him. He walked through the train, much longer than he'd thought it to be, and looked into each separate cart as he passed. After a short while he came across a cart holding a small boy with brown shaggy hair sitting across from a distinctly red headed, freckle faced boy. The brunette, wearing circular glasses that seemed to be fixed together in the middle with some form of muggle contraption, had a lightning shaped scar across the front of his forehead. Draco smiled back at the boys behind him, "This is it" he spoke, opening the door to their cart and stepping in. The two boys sitting comfortably in their seats glanced questioningly towards the door.  
"You must be the famous Harry Potter?" Draco said haughtily towards the brown haired boy.  
"uh yeah." Harry spoke, dismay in his voice.  
Draco had his entire life, as most wizarding children, been told about Harry Potter, the boy who lived. As a baby the boy's mother and father had been killed right in front of him, but somehow, even though he was shot with the same curse that killed his parents, all he was left with was a tiny zigzagged scar across his forehead. Draco's parents had told him that "It was Harry Potter that killed the most powerful wizard to ever have lived", a creature that went by the name of Voldemort. And it was Draco's father that had informed him that they were the same age and would be attending Hogwarts together, and that it would be best if Draco found friendship with him. The boy was different than he'd imagined him being. He looked frail, very small for his age. And he felt something towards the boy he couldn't quite put his finger on: a sort of anger, almost. Something rooted deep within him.  
"I'm Draco Malfoy. and this" he said, pointing behind him, "is Crabbe and Goyle."  
He looked about the cart, making eye contact with the lanky red head sitting quietly to himself in the corner.  
"and you must be a Weasley. Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down robes. What are you", he said looking back towards Harry, "doing with a Weasley? If you were smart you'd come sit with me. Young wizards of our caliber should stick with the right sort of people. Weren't you ever taught to choose your friends wisely?"  
Draco spoke arrogantly, claiming some sort of power over the boy that sat before him. Harry, looking intensely bothered, stood up out of his seat and stepped towards Draco.  
"I think I know what the 'right sort' are, and you, Draco Malfoy, are not it."  
He stared angrily at Draco for a moment, then went back to sit in his original position.  
"Well" Draco spoke, trying to hide the astonishment in his voice, "isn't that just your loss."  
And as these words slipped out of his mouth he swooped around and whipped out of the cart, glaring horribly at Harry before disappearing beyond his line of sight. As he, along with Crabbe and Goyle, entered back into their cart he hissed with anger.  
"Who is he to dismiss ME? A Weasley? A dirty, poor 'ickle Weasley over ME?" He sat back into his seat, his hands balled into fists resting on his lap. "He's clearly too ignorant to understand who I am! Oh, this won't do for my father. Absolutely not."  
Crabbe and Goyle sat across from him, shaking their heads in agreement. They spoke a few "how terrible!"'s and listened intently as Draco pissed on Harry's entire existence, waiting until he simply had nothing left to say. As the anger, and what underneath was truly embarrassment, began to dwindle, so did Draco's mouth. He stayed quiet for the remainder of the ride, doing his best not to listen to the rubbish being spoken between the two boys across from him. They finally, after what felt like years, began to approach the castle.  
"Blimey, look at it." shot Crabbe, who had, the entire ride, been trying to get Draco's attention. "Huge, ain't it?"  
"I suppose", said Draco, mulling it over, "but it's not that nice looking now, is it?"  
"No, not nice looking at all. Definitely agree there" Crabbe replied hastily, hoping to gain some type of respect from Draco.  
He felt it odd, and to be honest, empowering, to have someone so obviously begging for his approval. He'd grown up in a home where, unless it was just he and his mother, it was rarely seen. His father wasn't the type and his mother felt less than inclined to say anything during the common riffs he had with his father. He had a name to live up to, something he, according to his father, had yet to do. So he sat to himself quietly, saying nothing in response, but smirked with pride at how easily things were already happening for him.

When the train came to a halt and all of the first years had made their way across the deep blue lake surrounding the castle, Draco found himself at the front of a room surrounded by his first-year classmates. The room, extremely large in size, held four long, and terribly full, tables within it.  
"This, first years, is the Great Hall." Said a strong voice coming from that of an older witch at the front of the group. "You will all sit at one of these tables, as they represent the house you will be sorted into." She held up her hand to point as she spoke the next few words: "From right to left it will be Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and lastly, Gryffindor." She moved her arm down to step to her right, showing a dusty old hat on what looked like an already broken stool. "I am Professor McGonagal. I shall be calling out your names in alphabetical order. The first name will be, Abbot, Hannah."  
A short girl with what Draco would qualify as pathetically red hair stepped forward and nervously found her way to the stool. Professor McGonagal, holding the hat, asked Hannah to sit upon the stool, and then placed the hat upon her head. "Ahhhh and the first one's an easy one." The hat spoke out of a small slit closer to the circular rim, causing a few of the girls around him to scream. "Loves to help others, I see?" he paused for a moment, causing the girl to shake rapidly. "HUFFLEPUFF" and as the words flew out of the hats so-called mouth, Professor McGonagal lifted it off the girls head and pushed her forward towards the Hufflepuff table, full of kids screaming "Welcomes" towards her.  
Draco found himself confused as to why the girl seemed so excited to be in such a dim house. His father would always say: "It's absolutely pointless, Draco. I met a few people in that house, once. It's sort of like the, 'participation ribbon' some of your friends would get at Quidditch." He looked about the table and found himself annoyed at their enthusiasm. Had he received such a housing decision he'd have demanded a resorting. What was Hufflepuff house, anyway? He grimaced, trying to shake out the awful picture he imagined of himself in canary yellow, the color they so proudly owned. As he thought to himself, the hat began to trickle down the list, throwing out a few "Gryffindor"'s, "Ravenclaw"'s and even "Slytherin"'s about the room. They seemed to be at G by the time he'd found himself refocused on the sorting hat. "Greengrass, Daphne" called professor McGonagall, causing a young girl with bright blonde hair to emerge from the group of first-years and step upon the stool. She sat nonchalantly as the hat was placed onto her head.  
"Oh, we've got a clever one. Your mind, my dear, it's so clear. I see it all. The ambition, the willpower." Her tragically green eyes stared out into the hall, and Draco found himself completely and disastrously lost in them. He scanned her face, heart shaped, and noticed a light bump on her nose, something that did not distract from her beauty, but, rather more, added to it. Her lips were plump, the bottom more so than the top, but sat kindly above her chin. And although she could be seen as simply "pretty" by most people, she unearthed him. She struck him. And for reason's he couldn't begin to understand, he felt himself tied to her, as if there were a string wrapped tightly around his entire being, and another around hers. His breath caught momentarily, and he felt a piece of himself tear away and fall effortlessly upon her. "SLYTHERIN" was called out, and Daphne, with a small smile, walked over and sat at the Slytherin table. His mind began to race with nervousness, something he was, for the most part, unaccustomed to. He remembered his mother's words in his ear, "Your last name decided it for you", in an attempt to calm himself down. He knew Slytherin was where he'd end up, where he had to end up, but never had he felt this much pressure in regards to it. It was getting close to his name being called and the pressure of his family was weighing on him. But, that wasn't just it. It was also something new. Something urgent that was deep in his chest. This girl, Daphne, he had to be near her. He felt, doing his best to breathe evenly, that his entire 11 year old life depended on it. And the moment came when Professor McGonagal called his name, forcing him to walk, quite numbly, up to the stool. He turned around to face the hall and sat upon the horribly wooden seat. But, before he could even think about what would happen, it had finished. The hat had been an inch from his head when it laughingly said "SLYTHERIN", and with a proud smile he felt his feet moving beneath him towards his designated table, placing him, without even realizing it, directly across from her.

He realized, when he'd been properly seated and the feast had begun, that he was sitting next to both Crabbe and Goyle. He was pleased to see them placed in the same house. Not for them, but, himself. He liked how powerful he felt around them, and to know they'd been placed together gave him more time to sit with that. More time to, essentially, play with it. When he looked up across the table he saw her. She sat talking with a girl to her left. She was the same age, but looked drastically opposite to Daphne. She had dark hair, almost black in color, and tanned skin. Her face was long with a sloped nose sitting at its center and two deeply brown eyes. She was quite beautiful, and he imagined that her beauty would continue to grow as she did, but he found himself uninterested, staring more at the girl sat beside her. He looked down at the food on the table and picked out a piece of bread and placed it on his plate, listening to the girls talk.  
"It's Pansy. Pansy Parkinson." the dark haired girl stated, excitingly finding herself food. "The hat talked to you awhile, don't you think? What was your name, again?" she asked Daphne, clearly bothered by the fact that the hat hadn't spent quite as much time with her.  
"It's Daphne." She said, her voice strong. "Did you know you'd get Slytherin?" she asked Pansy, her voice lower and raspier than he'd expected it to be. There was also a calm to it, something naturally soothing.  
"My mum always said I'd be Slytherin. I'm just like her, you know, and she was Slytherin. So was my dad. But I've an aunt that was in Ravenclaw, so we all worried. Did you?"  
Daphne laughed a bit to herself. "Hadn't thought much of it."  
Draco looked up to grab more food and noticed Pansy staring at him. He tried to look away, hoping not to involve himself in their conversation, but it seemed too late.  
"And you are?" she asked him, genuinely interested.  
"Um.. Draco." He coughed out a bit, doing his best to act coolly.  
"Draco Malfoy? I've heard of you! My dad went to school with your dad. I hoped we'd be in the same house!"  
He felt this an odd thing to say, but smiled at her, replying with a quick, "yeah."  
"I'm Pansy, if you didn't know. and this" she said, pointing to the right of her, "is Daphne."  
When he looked towards her, his heart began to race. She was staring at him, smiling lightly. Her eyes, he noticed, were so green that they looked as though they had been hand painted to perfection. He managed out a "nice to meet you", to which she nodded her head in agreeance.  
"Hasn't everyone in your family been in Slytherin? You're a legacy." Pansy stammered, doing her best to reclaim Draco's attention. It took him a moment to process, but he managed to look towards her.  
"That's what my father says, yeah. That I was born for it. That my name's even Slytherin."  
Pansy laughed, completely adoring the attention. She spoke a lot, he noticed, and her voice, although pleasant, began to drag after a while. And she went on and on, talking mostly of herself in an attempt to win over everyone around her. Daphne, he noticed, was like an open book, her opinions and emotions clear in her vibrant facial expressions. He laughed to himself when he noticed how disinterested she looked. She was a quiet one, only throwing in a few sentences here and there. But, he thought, it suited her. When she spoke it was as if her words held more weight, more meaning. She spoke when she felt there was something to say, and he noticed himself wanting to break her down, to really talk to her, to really figure out who she was. They didn't speak directly again, as he found himself being dragged into a conversation regarding the newly housed Gryffindor, Harry Potter. He went on about how idiotic the boy was to the listening ears of Crabbe and Goyle and a few second years. But, every once and a while he'd look over at her, a part of him needing to keep an eye on her, a part of him needing to stay close. But, when the night had finished and the plates had vanished, he followed the rest of the Slytherin house, alongside Crabbe and Goyle, down to their dormitories. When he'd finally reached his room he found his luggage sitting near the entrance. His bed, a four poster covered in emerald green and silver, sat against a small glass window. He breathed in the room, taking note of its smell: mint mixed sweetly with rain. He unpacked, looking about the darkened room, and changed into something a bit easier to sleep in. As he crawled into bed and lay his head against his soft goose feathered pillow, he found himself smiling, excited for the days to come.

The days turned into weeks that eventually turned into months, and Draco, in his study filled haze, thought only of classes and his, at this point obvious, hatred for Harry Potter. He saw Daphne often, whether it be in class or the Slytherin common room, and each time he felt himself newly attached to her. But this, he decided early on, was a distraction. So he, wanting to please his father by doing well in his studies, did his best to pay little attention to it. But a day finally came, around the end of February, when in potions class Professor Snape, a sharp black haired man, put the students into pairs to work on a more difficult potion: the forgetfulness potion. Draco's class, mixed with the first year Gryffindors, was, in his opinion, the most wonderful place to be. Not only was it his best subject, but his teacher shared a special hatred for the boy wonder that made Draco terribly happy. "What an embarrassment" he'd call out to a laughing crowd after Professor Snape would catch Harry off guard, leaving him awkwardly answerless. Draco felt that, due to this equal hatred, he and Snape shared something special, something that bonded them. And as the head of Slytherin house, Draco found himself relying quite heavily on Snape. He appreciated and respected him, and that was more than he could say for any of his other teachers. During this specific February day Draco sat where he usually sat: in the back next to Crabbe and Goyle.  
"Today we're going to pair up. I'll call out the names. I then expect you, after I've finished, to go and sit next to your partners", spoke Snape dryly at the beginning of class. The students, looking clearly unnerved, jittered around in their seats.  
"Watch him pair me with a bloody Gryffindor" whispered Pansy to Draco, who sat directly behind her, "He loves to watch the drama unfold."  
Draco laughed quietly, knowing that Pansy, the literal magnet to all drama, would pitch the loudest fit if she were to end up seated next to a Gryffindor. Snape began to list off the names, pairing up both Slytherins with Slytherins, and Slytherins with Gryffindors. Pansy, thankfully, was paired with a fellow Slytherin named Blaise Zabini, a dark skinned, strong jawed beauty. Harry Potter, Draco noticed, was paired with Crabbe, a boy just as inept at potions as Harry was himself. He laughed gleefully at their inevitable failure.  
And then it was his turn: "Draco Malfoy with Daphne Greengrass." He froze. who with what? who? he nervously thought to himself. His eyes darted about the room, looking for the green eyed girl. She sat near the front of the class, staring respectfully towards Professor Snape. He panicked horribly to himself, wondering how he would approach her when the time came. As Snape finished listing the names, ending with a "Ron Weasley with Gregory Goyle", Draco sat up nervously, readying himself for what was to come. Daphne sat in her seat preparing her cauldron, wearing the Slytherin green and silver robes. Her blonde hair was tied back in a french braid, and she wore a small locket necklace, sitting on it an engraved symbol of a snake.  
"Nice necklace" he shot out as he went to sit in the open place next to her.  
She nodded in his direction, "From my sister. Housing gift if you couldn't have guessed it."  
"You've a sister?" he asked amazed, realizing that there were two Greengrasses, something he didn't think his little 11-year-old heart could take.  
"Yeah, she's a bit younger. She'll be a first-year in our third" She smiled graciously towards him, "but we should get started, yeah? I already added the 2 drops of Lethe River Water and I've just heated it. You can add the Valerian Springs if you'd like?"  
Her voice, its raspy soothing nature, bewildered him. He wondered quietly to himself if this was heaven. If she was heaven. How could he dream of- "Draco?" she asked again, shaking him out of his thoughts.  
"Yes, yes of course. 2, is it?" he grumbled, trying his best to recover casually.  
"Yes, I've got them here for you." She grabbed the two springs and handed them over to Draco, slightly brushing her hand against his as she passed off the roots.  
And as it happened he couldn't help but smile. And as he stirred the pot carefully and she waved her wand to let it brew, he couldn't help but think about the many ways he'd say thank you to Snape for this, for pairing him with her. They had to wait a good hour for the potion to brew, which left them sat next to each other with, basically, nothing to do. So Draco would, every few minutes, look back at Crabbe and Harry and laugh to himself about the smoke flowing from their cauldron.  
"Unbelievable" he whispered to himself.  
"What is?" asked Daphne, staring questioningly at Draco. "What's unbelievable?"  
"Oh, just the famous Harry Potter. Completely incompetent, you know?"  
"Ah yes. Your famous hatred for him, you mean. You have quite the fit every time he's around."  
Draco paused, feeling, to some degree, confusion. Everyone had, up to this point, always found his comments to be amusing.  
"I do not have a fit, Daphne. He's dim. That's simply a fact." he stated, defensively.  
"He's his moments, I suppose. But, as do you. I've never really understood it anyway, your hate for him. I mean, don't get me wrong, you wouldn't find me even remotely keen on him. But hating him? Bit of wasted energy, I think."  
The expression on his face, one of complete and total astonishment, said all he needed to say, causing Daphne to laugh. "Oh, lighten up a bit. I just don't get it, is all. You're a bit of a mystery to me." She spoke kindly, patting his arm lightly as she said it.  
"A mystery to you?" he managed to make out, his heart racing. "A mystery to you." He said again, this time more so to himself. He looked at her, her green eyes staring into his grey's, and he laughed. It was a small, quiet laugh, but a laugh all the same. With his laugh she smiled, staring closely at him. And it was in this moment that it happened, that something clicked. After they'd finished their potions and they'd found their way out of class, after days and weeks and even months had gone by, the two continued to speak. It was casual, quite friendly in nature, but it was the simple nature of contact that mattered. She'd wave her hello's in the hall, and he'd sit next to her while doing homework in the common room, and a sort of comfort began to grow. He felt, when he was around her, entirely relaxed. He could forget his anger and his jealousy and simply be who he wanted to be. As the end of the year approached and they were to sit in the great hall for the hallowed House Cup, where one house, depending on the number of points won that year, would win the title, Daphne and Draco chose to sit together, comfortably, as friends.


End file.
